


Kidnappings and Sandwiches

by EquusGirl0621



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring Mycroft, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Greg has had a tiring day, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mycroft Kidnapping his boyfriend because he's impatient, Sherlock Being Sherlock, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6614290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EquusGirl0621/pseuds/EquusGirl0621
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg has had a exhausting day and he's very late for his date with the British Government.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kidnappings and Sandwiches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NixxieFic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixxieFic/gifts).



> The ficlet is unedited and unbetaed so I'm sorry for any errors. I wrote this for NixxieFic's birthday and I know it's late. I'm sorry, I've been having a busy week. I'm not sure I like the ending so I may change it tomorrow but I just wanted to post it for now. Anyway, I hope you like what I've written, this is my first time writing Mystrade and it's so different from my normal fics. I may add on more later because I rather enjoyed writing these two.

Lestrade stood off to the side, watching Sherlock work the crime scene. He checked his watch, he was running late. Very late. “Can we try to wrap this up soon?” They had already taken the body away, Lestrade wasn’t even sure why Sherlock was still here. Not that he couldn’t leave Sherlock alone, he just preferred not to. It just caused less tension within the force. 

Sherlock looked up from examining something on a table. “Why?” Lestrade watched as Sherlock examined him further. “Oh god.”

“What?” Lestrade found himself suddenly feeling more than a little self-conscious. Sherlock had an uncanny knack for making that happen though he rarely paid so much attention to Lestrade.

“Really, Lestrade? _Him?_ Over 3 million people in London - over eight if you include outer London - and it has to be _him?_ ” A distinct look of disgust was on Sherlock’s face. He acted as if he was scarred for life.

“Oh bugger off. I didn’t ask you to deduce me, you know.” Lestrade stuck his hands in his coat pockets. Mycroft would understand Greg being pulled into a case, they both had demanding jobs. But it didn’t mean he had to like it. After years of being yelled at for never being home, it was a relief to have someone that understood that sometimes his job had to come first.

“Now I wish I hadn’t.” Sherlock stepped back and swept his gaze around the room one last time. “I’m done here.”

“Good.” Lestrade ushered him out of the room, following closely behind. “I assumed you already knew.”

“What my brother does in his spare time is of no interest to me.” They exited the house and walked down the pathway. Greg sighed and rolled his eyes at the sight of a black car waiting at the end of the driveway. Mycroft could become quite impatient sometimes. Sherlock scoffed. “It appears you’re being kidnapped. Do tell my brother that impatience doesn’t suit him. It only serves to make him look desperate.” And with that, Sherlock turned and began striding down the street. 

Sally stepped up next to Lestrade, “I’ll take your car back for you, if you’d like.”

“Ta. Have a good night, Donovan.” Lestrade handed her his keys with a grateful smile. 

“You too, sir.” She accepted the keys and walked away. Lestrade began walking towards the car, he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth it; a nervous flutter in his stomach. _Christ, I feel like I’m back in Uni again._ The rear door opened just as reached the curb, a voice speaking from within.

“You’re late, Gregory.” Greg climbed into the car, taking a seat opposite Mycroft. The car began moving as soon as Greg closed the door.

“I know, you have your brother to thank for that.” Greg took in the sight of the man across from him. As usual, he was resplendent in a three piece suit, the chain of a pocket watch gleaming at his waist. His umbrella leaning against the seat next to him. Greg felt rather disheveled in comparison,

“Stop that, you look fine, albeit tired.” Their knees bumped together as Greg stretched out on the seat, sagging into the soft leather. He was tired, exhausted even. 

“I’m knackered. Can I take a rain check on dinner?” He felt awful for asking but he couldn’t even stand the thought of sitting through dinner. He just wanted to put his feet up, have a beer and relax.

“I already took the liberty of canceling our reservation. Would you prefer if I took you to your home?” Mycroft’s expression remained carefully normal but Greg could see a bit of tension in the set of his mouth. “No, not at all. I just don’t think I’d be the best dinner companion tonight.” He saw the tension leech out of Mycroft at his words.

“Well, I’m sure something can be arranged.” A small smile pulled at the corner of Mycroft’s lips. He addressed the driver without taking his eyes off Greg. “James, take us home, please.”

“Of course, sir.” Greg felt Mycroft rest his knee ever so slightly against his thigh. They continued the rest of the ride to Mycroft’s home in companionable silence.  
***  
As they entered the home, Mycroft shed his jacket, placing his umbrella in a stand. “It’s the cook’s night off. I’ll retrieve something from the kitchen if you would like to head upstairs. I won’t be long.”

“Thank you.” Mycroft watched as Greg trudged up the stairs before making his way to the kitchen. He prepared a tray of sandwiches and pastries and retrieved a beer for Greg before making his way up to his bedroom. Pushing the door open with his back, entered the room. 

“I wasn’t certain what you’d be hungry for so I -“ Mycroft stopped as he took in the sight before him. Just a few feet from the door were Greg’s shoes, his suit jacket thrown over the back of the sofa. Halfway between the door and the bed laid his trousers in a heap on the floor. Mycroft’s eyes rested on the figure in his bed. Greg was sprawled across the bed as if he had just fallen into it. He probably had. Mycroft set the tray aside before gathering Greg’s things, folding his trousers and jacket and placing them on the bench at the foot of the bed, his shoes under the bench. He pulled a blanket from a nearby chest and threw it over the sleeping Detective Inspector. He took the plates of food and placed them in the hidden mini-fridge along with the beer. Setting his pocket watch atop the bureau, he shed his jacket and waistcoat, hanging them up in the walk-in closet. He grabbed his laptop and a few files before toeing his shoes off and climbing in bed next to Greg. Sitting up against the headboard, he set to work, the only sound in the room the clacking of keys and Greg’s light snores. 

It was a few hours before Greg stirred, his voice gravelly from sleep. “How long was I out?” 

Mycroft shut his laptop before looking at the man next to him. “Around two hours and twenty minutes, give or take.”

Greg blinked a few times before sitting up. “God, I’m sorry. I had just meant to rest my eyes until you got back. Why didn’t you get me up?”

“It was obvious you needed it. I had some work to complete anyway. If you’re hungry, there are sandwiches and pastries in the refrigerator.” As if on cue, Greg’s stomach rumbled; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything to eat. He pushed the blanket off of him before climbing out of bed and stretching, arms reaching above his head. He ambled over to the concealed refrigerator and bent down, grabbing the plate of sandwiches Mycroft had prepared. Grabbing the bottle of beer, he stood up to see Mycroft was watching him intently.

“Enjoying the view?” Greg wagged his eyebrows, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. He walked over to the sofa, purposely bending down to place the bottle and plate on the coffee table. 

“Immensely.” Mycroft set his work on the bedside table, crossing his arms in front of him. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” Greg took a bite of a sandwich and sat down on the sofa, regarding Mycroft.

“Not for food, no.” 

“Well, I’m sure something can be arranged.” 

“I’ll let you finish eating first.” Greg popped the last bit of sandwich in his mouth.

“How kind of you, but I’m finished. My appetite for food seems to have vanished.” Greg watched as Mycroft’s eyes darkened. He stood up from the bed and slowly walked towards Greg, unbuttoning his shirt as he did. 

“Is that so?” Upon reaching the sofa, Mycroft threw discarded his shirt on the ground before straddling Greg’s lap, threading his fingers through the man’s silver hair. Greg’s only answer was to wrap his arms around Mycroft’s waist, pulling him closer. Mycroft leaned down, claiming Greg’s lips in a kiss. It started off sweet and gentle before building into something filled with more heat and desire. Greg shifted so he could lay down on the sofa, pulling Mycroft on top of him. Clothes were shed and the plate of sandwiches lay forgotten on the coffee table.


End file.
